Pride and Polyjuice
by CrazyCarmen
Summary: After an accident with Polyjuice Potion, Hermione is trapped in Harry's body and overhears a conversation in the Seventh Year Boys' Dormitory that proves to her what pigs teenage boys can be.


This ficlet is co-written by Carli (Carmabelle) and Chelsea.  
Rated PG-13 for themes and language.  
Disclamer: If we owned them, we'd fight over the pairings to the point where Draco and Ron would kill one another over Hermione. With that said, enjoy!  
  
~*~  
Pride is a wonderful, terrible thing. Especially when it drives you to posing as another person entirely for hours on end when all you had to do was admit you'd added a shred too much moon grass to your Polyjuice Potion while down in the dungeons.  
  
"Harry just--just go back to my dorm, it'll wear off soon!" Hermione pleaded--if word got back to Snape her Polyjuice potion had lasting effects, surely it wouldn't receive a passing grade, but be dubbed dangerous.  
  
"Hermione, shouldn't we at least tell Ron?"  
  
Pride bubbled inside her, and being a Gryffindor there was quite a bit of it. Ron had successfully traded bodies with Neville for a half an hour, to Snape's displeasure, and she wasn't about to fess up--not when the potion would be wearing off in less than a few hours.  
  
"We.we can't. Please. We just can't."  
  
So she watched as an apprehensive Harry--housing her own slim form and bushy brown hair--trooped up to the Gryffindor girl's dormitories, and sighed heavily.  
  
Surely the boys' dorms, while occupied, couldn't be all too bad.  
  
It was after dinner, and Ron was lying down on his bed. His arms rested behind his head, expression stoic as he up at the ceiling. Harry's been acting rather funny lately, and declined a chess game with him. Ha, he doesn't feel like getting beaten, of course. He sighed, half-listening in on Seamus and Dean's conversation in the Seventh Year Boys' Dormitory.  
Dean was sitting at the table in the middle of the room, legs kicked up on the table in the center of the dormitory as he let out a great big belch. "Great dinner tonight, eh?"  
  
Hermione--or Harry to the onlookers--wrinkled her nose at the distasteful burp, and pulled the curtains closed about Harry's bed where she sat cross-legged. Certainly the potion would wear off soon enough, all the sooner she was allowed to flee the scene. Hopefully the misery would end before tomorrow morning--as she wasn't about to bathe Harry's body.  
  
"Oi, Dean." Seamus began with a soft drawl from the floor, feet elevated on his bed that had not yet been made, but lay in heaps next to his head on the carpet. "We haven't yet heard how your little rendezvous with Lavender went." Judging by the grin spreading across his face, he could very well guess.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes but couldn't help hearing details. He didn't want to miss out! Boys were just as bad as girls, wanting to know everything about everyone. He scooted to the edge of the bed. "Yeah, Thomas. She wouldn't stop bloody giggling all during dinner."  
  
Dean could only smirk, a sly grin forming on his face. "Maybe that's 'cause I gave her a little extra dessert under the table, if you know what I mean." A snigger escaped him. "She's a bloody banshee, that's what she is."  
  
It took all Hermione had not to display just what she had eaten for dinner. She settled for a truly revolted look, eyes slightly wide. They could be such pigs.  
  
Seamus gave a not excessively civilized snort. "Too bad more than half of Gryffindor Tower can testify to that first hand." He passed Ron a significant look with wiggling brows. After a moment he raised his voice with a, "And we know just who hasn't bedded this banshee." And his eyes fell on the hangings behind which Hermione--as Harry--hid. "Just which lad hasn't had a ride on the neighborhood broomstick?"  
  
Ron rolled his eyes and walked over to Harry's four-poster, pulling back the curtains. "Oi! What're you doing, mate? Do you hear this? Dean nailed Lavender." He laughed, flopping down on the edge of Harry's bed.  
  
"Yeah, too bad Harry doesn't know what she's like. Waiting for Ron's little sister. I dated her for a while in fifth year, remember that, Ron? Too bad she was too in loooove with Harrry." Dean rolled his eyes.  
  
"Shut the fuck up about my sister, Thomas." The redhead glared daggers at Dean.  
  
She froze, having been discovered. Drawing herself up, obviously offended by such talk she said defensively, "Well, from what I heard, you're what drove her back to her Harry-adoration." Quickly remembering whom she was supposed to be she said quickly, "And.and yeah I'd.wait for Ginny." However, there was uncertainty in her voice. How was she supposed to respond? Harry's nose wrinkled under his glasses.  
  
"Don't know if you should, mate." Seamus said with a wink, "you've heard it first hand--  
  
Lavender's a banshee in the sack, and Patil," He gave a little chuckle, "both of 'em.." He made a low whistling sound, breaking off to laugh.  
  
"How noble of you, Potter," he sniggered. "Really, mate. You don't know what you're missing out on." He nudged Seamus with a little brow waggle. "Even Weasley's had a piece of Lavender."  
  
Ron sighed. "Harry knows about that. It was a while ago, and I'd had too much Odgen's Old Firewhiskey. She's not my type." He shrugged, running a hand through his hair. Of course, his type was Hermione, but he wouldn't dare bring her up. Dean and Seamus tortured him about her enough as it was, since it was so obvious in their opinion.   
  
It was a good thing no one caught Harry looking at Ron the way he did for a moment, as if with adoration nearly, perhaps appreciation, but it was quickly erased when Hermione again recalled she was supposed to be Harry, not "Ron's type."  
  
And, well, Ron was hoping for a lot. Seamus was viscous. "So, Weasley, what IS your type?" He said, righting himself with interest, "Perhaps the sort who moans louder in a book's company than yours?"  
  
"Kiss my arse, Finnegan." He tossed a pillow, knocking Seamus in the head. "At least my type isn't infested with freaky diseases." He sounded oddly like Hermione, and he shook his head. "You can't have a girlfriend for more than a week."  
  
Dean laughed. "You haven't had a girlfriend more than-- well, not a serious one ever, Weasley. Who are you one to talk?"  
  
He glared. "I don't use girls. If you had a little sister, you'd understand." He growled, crossing his arms over his chest. It appears that Mrs. Weasley had raised him well.  
  
Hermione simply bit her lip, hoping to slowly seep from the conversation entirely and then be able to retreat to a corner of the room and not be target again. However, she was wearing a very cruel expression indeed. It would appear Harry had been borrowing glowering techniques from Hermione.  
  
Seamus caught the pillow with something like a cackle; apparently amused he'd flared Ron's temper. "Freaky diseases? Well, at least they can't alphabetically name and define all those diseases--now can they, Weasley?"  
  
"Better being able to alphabetize then than actually have every bloody one now is it!" Well, was that a blatant confession? His cheeks turned a light shade of red and he glared even more. "She's my best friend. Bugger off. Saved your arse a few times for being so smart, didn't she?" he shot back at Seamus.  
  
Dean shrugged. "He's got a point. His lover girl did supply us with homework answers a few times. Well-- through Harry, but still." He snickered.  
  
Again, the look from Harry. It would have been wrong if any male looked at another male like that. But this time, the other boys didn't notice.  
  
Seamus shrugged. "I suppose." And then a sly grin came about his face, "but how many books can she read to enhance her performance, eh?" And he fell back into the edge of his bed, apparently amused by the thought of Miss Granger immersing herself in smutty novels.  
  
Harry blushed and adverted his gaze to the mattress.  
  
"I doubt it. Seems like a prude to me." Dean shrugged, kicking his feet up onto the table. "She's probably never even kissed a bloke."  
  
"Who cares?" Ron shot back defensively. "It's none of your bloody business anyway." Take that, Dean. "Don't you think you should help me here, Harry? They're on me about 'Mione again." He sighed, that pleading look in his eye as he looked to Harry.  
  
Immediately snapping to attention Hermione nodded with a downcast gaze, "Yes, it. really isn't any of your business." She cleared her throat in a very uncomfortable fashion.  
  
Seamus looked slightly put out, "Oh, c'mon, Harry, even you know she's a prude, friend or not." Then his eyes alight with mischief; Seamus pantomimed putting his arm around someone next to him. "My dorm's empty tonight, Hermione." He mimicked in a very low voice, before scooting over a seat and fluttering his lashes. Batting at the air beside him he squealed in a voice so high it was scratchy, "Not now! Not now, Ron! I have to finish this four thousand-page book so I can show off in class tomorrow! I have to finish it right now!"  
  
Dean cracked up, clutching at his stomach as he erupted into a loud chuckle. "Good one, mate. Nice impression. But Ron's never in the dorm by himself anyway. You're always in here with someone or another."  
  
Ron bolted across the room and grabbed Seamus by the front of his robes, glaring daggers at his roommate. "Shut the bloody hell up if you want to wake up tomorrow," he threatened, cheeks shading a deep crimson color.  
  
Perhaps it was just instinct, but as Hermione had been on the verge of telling Ron to ignore it, she immediately fled from the bed to hold him back, as Harry and Hermione seemed to take to doing in just about every month of their Hogwarts careers.  
  
No longer laughing, Seamus blinked quickly, hands attempting to force Ron's off his clothing. "Hey, calm down mate, I was only joking." Though he still seemed lightly amused as he put in a little, "Has she got you that wrapped?" It was quickly followed by raised brows and a hurried, "Just joking!"  
  
He roughly shoved him onto the floor, knowing he deserved it. "Bugger off and stop talking about Hermione. She's never done anything to you." He went back on the side of the room, closing the curtains and flopping onto the bed with a huff.  
  
"Why doesn't he just get some bloody balls and ask her out, Harry? It's getting irritating already, mate." Dean sighed, brows raised at who he thought was Harry.   
  
Staring at Ron with a slightly embarrassed grin it took her a moment to realize Dean was addressing her, and she started with a little, "Oh," obviously flustered, "Well, I-I don't think he should ask her out unless he really.really wants to." And she glanced at Ron as though awaiting his reaction.  
  
"Yeah," Seamus snorted, after lifting himself off the ground and rubbing his rear end. "You can't ask Harry's opinion on girls, though, mate." He said to Dean, "Maybe if you want to kill a viscous fire-breathing dragon, but not girls." After a moment he laughed again. "Not that there's too much of a difference there."  
  
"Just 'cause Harry doesn't need to shag everything that breathes, doesn't mean he doesn't know a lot about girls. He's had a steady girlfriend for over a year, so he must know what he's doing." He snickered. "And Harry, are you kidding, mate? Ron's been moping over Hermione since third year at least. You mean to tell me you aren't bloody annoyed by it yet?"  
  
Ron drew the curtains around his bed, trying to block out the conversation.  
  
"Third year?" She repeated with wide eyes. "I-I mean--no! Not.at all. In fact," She cleared her throat a little, drawing herself up in a very Hermione-esque fashion. "I think that Hermione would think it was.flattering and would probably.well. I think she would think it was sweet." She rambled before she could stop herself.  
  
"Sweet!" Seamus's head fell back in an onslaught of laughter. "She'd think it was SWEET? Oi, Harry, so is THAT how you keep a girlfriend?" His eyes were closed as he leaned heavily on the bed behind him, "You're the SENSITIVE type?"  
  
Dean snickered. "So that's why Ginny broke up with me. She wanted a bloody sissy for a boyfriend." He grinned. "I'm just kidding, Harry. If you think Hermione'd think it would be... er.sweet, and.stuff.DO something about it! Weasley's bloody miserable. He needs a woman. He actually turned down Parvati, Susan Bones, and Hannah Abbott for Hermione!"   
  
Harry looked thoroughly surprised by this information, which was a big mistake, as he'd been present when Ron had dismissed Hannah. "He did?" She'd forgotten to seem detached and heroic for a moment, and was now fiddling in a very feminine fashion with the hem of Harry's shirt, brows arcing lightly.  
  
Seamus didn't seem to notice anything unusual, perhaps because he was staring at the hangings on Ron's bed. "Sure as bloody hell did. I mean, Hannah, understandable, but it's known by every cretin that Weasley had Lavender first--and, well, you know how emotional girls get about that sorta junk. She didn't take it well." Though despite his slightly rude comments on female emotions, he did hold a note of sympathy in his voice.  
  
Dean laughed. "C'mon. Let's get Weasley a plan. He needs to quit acting like a sissy. Oi! Ron!" He stormed over to Ron's bed and pulled back the curtains. "Tomorrow, mate. Tomorrow you'd better get some bloody balls and ask her out already."  
  
Ron glared and tossed his pillow at Dean. "Fuck you. Leave me alone."  
  
Hermione inwardly cringed at the profanity, but said nothing on the matter. "Honestly, just let him alone." The skin beneath Harry's glasses was slightly tinted rose.  
  
"Now, c'mon, Harry, do you really want a best mate who does nothin' but mope over a girl? Do him a favor!" Seamus said brightly, though with a hint of determination, "Lock him in a closet with her or something until he spills!"  
  
"Come on, Dean. Lavender and Parvati told us to meet them now, remember?" Seamus smoothed his hair, attempting to tame it.  
"Bugger me, I forgot! Later, mate," he muttered to Harry, passing a quick glance at Ron before they dashed out.  
  
Ron simply lay on his bed, hands resting on his chest as he stared blankly up at the ceiling. "Don't they understand that I bloody can't ask her out?" He asked to Harry once he heard the door click.   
  
"Well, why not?" She was still sitting cross-legged, and leaned forward with her head tilted in a very sympathetic fashion. "I mean, you never know how I--she feels until you ask m--'Mione. Do you?" She was being far too reasonable to play a convincing Harry, but that didn't matter at the moment.  
  
"She'd laugh at me," He sat up, eyes focused on his fingers that were picking at the blanket on his bed. "Besides. She probably wants one of those... brainy, smart, successful blokes who'll discover the potion to cure every sort of wizard and muggle disease and make a billion galleons." He sighed. "That's who she should get, anyway."  
  
Hermione was torn between being slightly amused and offended at the same time. Settling for the thought that the last thing Ron needed was to be laughed at during his moment of confession, she forced both down and began slowly and calmly. "Well, maybe she should get someone who thinks that's what she should get." She paused. "If that makes much sense."  
  
"Whatever, Harry. You don't understand." He sighed, flopping onto his stomach and resting his head on his hands. "I tried fancying other girls, but... they're not the same. I can't bloody get her out of my head. It's making me mad." He blushed a little, not looking up.  
  
"Oh honestly, Ron." She snapped, nose wrinkling, "If you truly think about it, how many other boys have I--has she fancied? Not enough to say she's exactly bouncing about with someone in particular on her mind. Stop pretending this is all about you and maybe look at where other people stand." She huffed silently, crossing her arms over.well, over Harry's chest.  
  
He blinked, sitting up and staring at Harry funny, jaw dropping lightly. "You... What did you say?" He knew something was up. Harry was always sympathetic, and tonight he was acting so very strange. Hermione- ish, to be exact.  
  
Her eyes went wide. Yes, she was good when it came to referring to herself as a "she" rather an "I", but every lecture--especially one which included the words "Honestly, Ron" was an obvious product of Hermione Granger. Mouth going rather dry she attempted to collect her dignity. Not a good move, it only made her seem all the more Hermione-ish. "I--I mean to say," She cringed. Again, not the correct response. Letting out a slow breath she answered in a low voice, "I was just saying that maybe if you asked her how she felt you would realize you're wrong." It was said lamely, but hopefully it worked.  
  
Nope. Couldn't slip that one by Ron. To confirm his suspicions, he watched Harry's scar suddenly disappear, and his hair started growing rapidly, losing its jet-black color for a deep chestnut brown color. He gaped at her, knowing exactly who it was. "Hermione!! What the bloody hell!" He jumped up, jaw dropping in shock. Of course, he figured she did this on purpose to spy on him.   
  
She considered her options--A.) Continue to play Harry and act as if Ron were simply hallucinating. B.) Explain herself despite her embarrassment. Or C.) Jump out the window, purely out of humiliation, to her doom. C was very tempting. "Ron! Ron--I didn't--the Polyjuice." She took a few deep, calming breaths, "Okay, Ron, you have to listen to me, I-- I didn't mean to."  
  
He glared at her, arms crossed over his chest. He had quite the pained expression on his face. "So it was you the whole time?" His face was a deep, deep shade of crimson. "That's just bloody wonderful. Fantastic. Splendid! Why didn't you go.somewhere ELSE until it wore off?"  
  
Now she was completely back to her normal body. Her brows drew together as she too found it in her, even with her rosy cheeks, to stick her nose high in the air and cross her arms, "Oh, and as if you would have done the same, Ronald Weasley." As her chin lost elevation she deepened in color. "Besides." She began, tone far lower, "If I hadn't heard, I probably wouldn't ask you to kiss me." She glanced at him sharply.  
  
He blinked, jaw nearly hitting the floor in shock. He froze, shaking his head in disbelief. "You.you want me to." He considered her for a moment. "But, what about-Oh, bloody hell!" He let out a nervous half laugh before breaking into a full out smile, taking a few steps and seizing her around the waist, pressing his lips to her tenderly.   
Now, perhaps that's what caused the great receding in the ardent flame of her cheeks. Though she smiled in a very embarrassed fashion against his lips, she brought one hand to grip his neck before breaking the kiss with a little smile. "Third year?"  
  
~*~ Reviews are muchly appreciated! Thank you! 


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